Not So Subtle
by murderofonerose
Summary: In which Ford does something uncalled for, Arthur stops the car very suddenly, and a New Year’s resolution is made. Set before the Earth was destroyed. Ford/Arthur


**Warning:** Contains slash  
**Pairing:** Ford/Arthur  
**Words:** 717  
**A/N:** This isn't how I have written or usually would write Arthur, but I imagine that before the Earth was destroyed he was a very calm, grounded person. Ignorance is bliss, after all.  
**Disclaimer:** Is it really necessary to point out that I am not Douglas Adams? Is that what people really _need_? (I'm not even English and I don't even _look_ like a Douglas.)

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**Not So Subtle**

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It was the last night before the first day of the new year, and Ford and Arthur were in a car headed back to Islington, bickering.

"That was completely uncalled for! _And_ you got us thrown out of the party."

"It seemed called for to me."

"She was _asking_ for my _number_, Ford!"

"Exactly."

"Exact— Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been on a date?"

Ford considered this for a moment. "You know, in the three or four years I've known you, I don't know that you've been on any dates at all."

"Exactly! I used to. Not a lot of them, but a reasonable amount. Things were going all right for me. Then I met you."

"Me?" Ford asked, hurt. "What did I do?"

Arthur wasn't looking at him. Ostensively because he was concentrating on driving the car through the lightly falling snow, but from the way he was fuming he probably wouldn't have anyway.

"What did you do? You pretended to be far drunker than you were and dumped brandy all down that poor girl's blouse! Where you got the brandy I'll never know, because the only drinks at the party were sparkling cider and champagne – but you're always doing things like that, aren't you!"

"Hold on, now. There may have been a few instances of clumsiness, but hardly—"

"I'm not even going to try to remember all the examples I could give you," Arthur interrupted. "For god's sake, Ford, are you always this odd or are you just trying to keep women away from me?"

At this, Ford blushed brightly. "No," he said, fiddling with the strap of his satchel, "of course not." As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. He wished he could go back fourteen years and stop himself from hitching a lift with those teasers, just to avoid being here, at that particular moment, telling that particular lie.

The car veered to the side of the road suddenly, causing Ford to yelp in alarm. He did so a second time, just for good measure, when they jerked to a halt just as suddenly. Arthur slammed the car into park and turned to stare cryptically at him.

"Dingo's kidneys," Ford breathed. "What are you trying to do, kill us?!"

"Don't try to change the subject. Were you not telling the truth just now?"

Ford tried his best to gather himself and look insulted, but in fact only succeeded in looking shifty. "Whatever gave you the idea that I wasn't?"

"You're evading the question. And blushing. And I might have had a girl to kiss at midnight if it weren't for you. I think I'm well within my rights to ask."

It took Ford exactly forty-two seconds to decide to give up and just go for it. (If either of them had thought to count those seconds and remember the number, it may have explained some things quite a few months later. But then again, it might not have. One never knows.)

Surprisingly, Arthur didn't react badly to the sudden, rather lip-mashing kiss at all. A few moments later, he merely commented, "I thought as much."

"Oh?" Ford asked, feeling rather giddy.

"Well, it does explain a lot."

"Oh." The Betelgeusian smiled a little self-consciously, thinking of how many things about him that Arthur didn't know might elicit that same response. "I didn't think I should say anything… "I've noticed that some hu – some people don't go for this sort of thing. I couldn't tell if you were one of those or not."

Arthur shrugged, and apparently didn't notice the near slip. "I usually don't, but why not? You seemed pretty dead set on it and you aren't a dislikeable person. I'm just glad we've sorted things out before anything more drastic than staining a dry-clean only blouse happened."

"But… weren't you angry at me earlier?"

"Not so much angry as exasperated." Arthur shifted in his seat and pointed at the radio clock. "Look, it's three past midnight. What's your New Year's resolution, Ford?"

"Nothing, I suppose," he replied. "You already have my number."

But secretly he thought, _My New Year's resolution, Arthur Dent, is to take you with me when I finally get a ride off this backwater little planet._


End file.
